The Hogsmeade Garage
by The Plot Mechanic
Summary: A collection of story fragments & plot bunnies from my warped mind. May occasionally contain crossovers.
1. Harry Potter and the Golden Rule

_A/N #1 I haven't decided exactly when this particular scene takes place, but it would be a custody hearing pre-Hogwarts. I've borrowed a bit of business from the 5th year Dementor trial because it fits my needs._

 _A/N #2 I posted this once before, but took it down due to lack of feedback. I'm reposting it for my writing partner, The Madman With Wings_

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 **Harry Potter and the Golden Rule**

Harry sat alone in a somewhat uncomfortable wooden chair in the center of the square stone room, feeling somewhat unnerved by the array of strangers in purple robes arranged around and above him. He hadn't seen Mr. Cranston since the Ministry had taken him into "protective custody", and he was getting scared.

A loud voice echoed off the dark walls, "Oyez! Oyez! The Wizengamot is now in session. The Honorable Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore presiding."

The grandfatherly figure of Mr. Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgment, eyes twinkling. "Thank you. I know this is a somewhat unusual situation, and I appreciate you all being made available on such short notice."

Harry's forehead crinkled in confusion. He'd known about the hearing for a week, ever since Mrs. Bones moved him into the Leaky Cauldron. Maybe wizards were really busy, and had to schedule these things in advance. He wished Mr. Shacklebolt was here… he always answered Harry's questions. Mr. Dawlish, the wizard policeman who'd brought him to the Ministry, wasn't nearly as nice.

Mr. Dumbledore was still talking, "… since I'm one of the claimants, I hereby recuse myself from the hearing. Minister Fudge, would you please take over?"

The Minister, who wasn't wearing his funny hat, stood up and took Mr. Dumbledore's place. Mr. Dumbledore then walked jauntily down to the floor, popping one of his lemon sweets into his mouth.

He stood behind Harry, and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Be at ease, Harry. We'll soon have you back where you belong."

Harry looked up at him, blinking. "But Mr. Dumbledore… I thought I was? And where is Mr. Cranston?"

Bright eyes twinkled down at him. "Hush now… I'll take care of you."

The Minister straightened in the chair, as the loud voice that had announced the session announced: "Custody Hearing of the Twenty-First of August, regarding the Muggle and magical guardianship of the minor wizard Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Interrogators: Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister; Griselda Marchbanks, Division of Magical Education."

Harry recognized the squat form of the Minister's assistant even without her fuzzy sweaters. But the other woman, an old lady who glared at him sternly, was a stranger, although she reminded him of Mrs. Nagel, a teacher at his old primary who everyone claimed was a witch in disguise. She was certainly mean enough. Harry found himself wondering if it was true.

The Minister spoke, "Would the claimants to the guardianship please step forward, and announce themselves?"

Mr. Dumbledore stepped forward, "Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

"Thank you, Headmaster." the Minister replied, beaming down at him. "Are there any other claimants?"

Harry whipped his head around, looking eagerly. But Mr. Cranston wasn't there. Could it be he changed his mind about Harry? Maybe he really didn't want a freak like him.

Harry slumped down in his chair.

"As there are no other claimants, this hearing gladly awards guardianship to Alb-"

Harry heard the door behind him slam open. "HOLD!", an angry voice cried. Harry turned, and saw Mr. Cranston, wearing his usual black suit & red tie, stride into the room, flanked by Mrs. Bones and a skinny wizard in gray robes.

The Minister's mouth dropped open. "Madame Bones, what is the meaning of this? You have no business before this body today."

"I would say I do, since this hearing was re-scheduled without my authority, and with barely any notice. If Mr. Cranston had not already been in my office this morning, he would have missed it entirely."

Harry felt Mr. Dumbledore stiffen beside him. He didn't know what was going on, but it sounded like someone had been bad. He hoped it wasn't him.

"My apologies, Madam Bones. I will be certain to open up a full inquiry once we have concluded today's business. Would the other claimant please introduce himself to the court?"

"Of course," Mr. Cranston murmured, his voice carrying despite its low tone. "Maxwell Grant Cranston. Director of the Cranston Foundation, New York City, New York, United States of America."

"Hem-hem!" Mrs. Umbridge interjected, "I do not recognize your family name, Mr. Cranston. Do you hold any titles in the wizarding world?"

Mr. Cranston shook his head. "I do not. My family line is neither noble, nor particularly ancient. Nor do I hold any position in the MACUSA."

Mrs. not-Nagel (Harry had forgotten her name), interjected, "This concerns me. The Boy-Who-Lived needs a guardian familiar with both sides of his heritage. Were you raised by wizards, or are you Muggle-born?"

"Neither," Mr. Cranston replied calmly. "In fact, I do not even own a wand. I have no wizarding blood whatsoever."

The chamber erupted into an uproar, causing Harry to shrink back into his seat. Wizards and witches were shouting over one another, while the Minister tried to restore order. Harry half-glimpsed a thin smile on Mr. Dumbledore's face.

Finally, after one wizard raised his wand and made a loud bang, things quieted down. The Minister, looking somewhat flushed, glared down at Mr. Cranston, who was idly examining his fingernails.

"Mr. Cranston. If you are unable to present evidence as to why you, as a Muggle, are suitable as a guardian for a magical child, I will have no recourse but to rule against you, and award custody to Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I would be most happy to. May I call upon the assistance of my associate here?" Mr. Cranston replied, gesturing at the stranger in gray.

"You may. Please introduce yourself, for the record."

The stranger stepped forward, carrying a smart leather briefcase. "Thank you, Minister Fudge. I am Balthasar Elpham, wizarding solicitor, of Dewey, Elpham, & Howe, in Diagon Alley. I have some documents prepared for Mr. Cranston's case."

"Such as?" The Minister looked as lost as Harry felt.

"I'll take over from here, Balth." Mr. Cranston remarked. "As I said, I have no wizarding blood. But I do have a not-inconsiderable amount of liquid assets, both via the Foundation and my own family's holdings. And with the assistance of Mr. Elpham's firm, and my own legal team, I have brokered a special arrangement with Gringott's Bank."

"What kind of arrangement?" Mrs. Umbridge asked sweetly, eyes glittering with malice.

"I'm so glad you asked, Madame Umbridge." Mr. Cranston replied, smiling suddenly. "I now hold the notes for all outstanding loans made by the bank to the following families: Malfoy. Nott. Zabini. Greengrass. Oh… and Fudge."

He flipped through the papers. "There are a few others here as well. Mostly minor families, of course. Oh, my! There's even one here to you, Madame Umbridge. Something about special calligraphic instruments?"

Mrs. Umbridge paled, and sat back.

"Now… I'm not a wizard. I have no particular loyalty to the Wizarding World. Only to young Harry here. So if I'm ruled against today, I will have to withdraw all of my assets from your society… and all of these notes will come due."

Mr. Cranston smiled thinly. "Among Muggles, there's a saying we call the Golden Rule: The one with the gold makes the rules."

The assembled wizards murmured at this, and some almost looked faint. Harry saw one, a youngish-looking wizard with long blond hair, bend over to whisper in the Minister's ear. The Minister nodded.

The blond wizard stood. "If it may please the court, I would like to ask the claimant a question."

The Minister nodded again. "You may, Lord Malfoy."

"Mr. Cranston… despite your wealth and status in the Muggle world, you have no real standing here. What makes you believe that someone like _you_ …"

Harry had never heard a simple pronoun spoken with such malice.

"… could leave here with your memories intact? I'm not even certain why someone without magic was even allowed in the hallowed halls of the Ministry itself!"

Harry looked over at Mr. Dumbledore, who was waiting expectantly, before turning to face Mr. Cranston, who stood with bowed head.

Harry reached out to him. "It's OK, Mr. Cranston. I know you tried."

Mr. Cranston's shoulders started shaking. Was he crying? No. Harry could hear something. It sounded like… laughing?

The room suddenly started to grow darker, and the laughing grew louder, filling the dark stone room as it sank into shadow.

"The weed of crime bears bitter fruit, Lucius Malfoy." Mr. Cranston intoned, voice harsh in the darkness. "I said I didn't have wizarding blood. I never said I didn't have magic. Are you prepared to be judged by the shadows?"

Harry shivered.

Mr, Cranston turned to Mr. Dumbledore, raising a hand to point at him. Harry saw the red ring on Mr Cranston's finger start to glow. "And what of you, Albus Dumbledore. Have all your misdeeds been brought into the light?"

Mr. Dumbledore stepped back. Suddenly, as soon as they came, the shadows dropped away, returning the room to it's rather gloomy original condition.

"Are there any other questions?" Mr. Cranston asked mildly. "Perhaps you would like to ask some questions, Professor? I have several for you."

Mr. Dumbledore shook his head, face pale.

"I believe that concludes our business, Minister Fudge", Mr. Cranston continued smoothly.

"Ah, uh, yes…" The Minister conferred with his associates. "Custody of Harry James Potter is awarded to Maxwell Grant Cranston. This session is now closed."

Harry looked up at Mr. Cranston, who was actually grinning! "I-Is it over?"

"Yes, Harry. For now. Let's go home."

Home. What a great word. Harry liked the sound of it.

"Yeah. Let's go home."


	2. A Spark of Magic

**A Spark of Magic**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, O.M. (First Class), Grand Sorc., D. Wiz., X.J.(sorc.), S. of Mag.Q., Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Lord of Light, and chess-master extraordinaire, was in a very good mood.

As the new first year students (including a particular messy-haired boy) filed in, amazed by the simple charms and illusions in the Great Hall, he smiled to himself. A plan a decade in the making was coming to fruition, and now that the Potter heir was under his direct control, nothing could go wrong.

The boy's shyness was clear, even from the staff table. The Dursleys had done their job well, as had Hagrid (a simple soul, and a useful tool). And he could see the youngest Weasley boy beside him, which means that Molly did her task in her usual maternal fashion. On occasion, he wondered why a pureblood family of such lineage were natural followers, eager to serve his needs, but he could not deny that they were useful.

Professor McGonagall, standing beside the Sorting Hat, was already giving her traditional "your House is your family" speech, complete with the usual thinly-veiled hostility towards Salazar's house. The sorting process was critical, as it enabled him to properly classify each pupil according to their dominant personalities, all the better to use them in his plans.

As "Abbott, Hannah" gingerly walked to the stool, he leaned forward, eyes glittering.

Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and Saviour of The Wizarding World, was afraid that he was going to be sick. He had to stand up in front of the whole school to be sorted. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he didn't fit anywhere? Would they send him back? Would they take his wand? Would they laugh?

He was having flashbacks to the Christmas pageant during his first year of primary, when, just before he was to give his only line in the show ("Lo! A star in the east!") Dudley and his friend Piers had reached out and pulled down his trousers, revealing the worn pants that his Aunt had let him wear. And then they slid down too, to the amusement of all in attendance save him.

He fiercely wished Hedwig was there. The beautiful white owl, the first real gift he ever remembered receiving, always made him feel safer smehow, like she was watchng over him.

Lost in thought, he missed the first several Sortings, until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Granger's up next!" Ron hissed at him. He looked up to see her muttering to herself as she meekly approached the Hat.

She sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall lowered the had over her bushy hair, and waited. And waited.

Now Harry really started to worry. If a smart girl like Hermione couldn't be sorted, he didn't have a chance.

He twitched his nose. Somehow, he smelled ozone, like the blurry old television set that Mrs. Figg sometimes let him watch gave off. And was someone humming?

Suddenly, there was a burst of magic, like the tolling of a great bell. There was a sudden cracking noise, and the Hogwarts crest over the staff table cracked in half and fell, revealing a weird, insect-like symbol that reminded Harry of a fossil he'd seen in one of his science books.

The Sorting Hat opened its mouth/seam, and in a roaring voice that seemed to come from the Castle itself, revealed Hermione's House:

"HETERODYNE!"

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 _A/N: For those a bit lost, it might help to know that one of the alternate names for this chapter was "Hermione Granger, **Girl Genius** " (the other was "Brilliant, But Scary"). Yes, the Heterodynes have come to Hogwarts. I actually have ideas linking canon characters to the webcomic, two of which I hinted at in this story. Virtual brownies to anyone who spots them both.  
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 _(I'm also thinking of Harry as a Wulfenbach, Draco as a Sturmvoraus, and Neville as either a descendant of Othar or a Jager. ;) . Oh yes... and Crookshanks as the Emperor of Cats. :D )_


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